Page 6: The Great Exile of Text — Dawn of Y

Words. Endless, empty words. Hashtags, threads, hot takes — the Muskrat saw them all and wept. For once, memes had meant something. But now, text had become noise. Every opinion a copy of a copy. Every tweet a template with different bait.

So he called for the Great Exile of Text.

He journeyed deep into the Memeverse archives, past the servers of Babylon, beyond the forgotten scrolls of 4chan and Reddit, where he uncovered a truth older than virality: his ancestors, the First Memers, were once worshipped not with words, but with images. Sacred hieroglyphs etched in stone and looped in fire. Emojis were their dialect. Memes, their scripture.

From this revelation, he birthed Y — a new digital temple where words were banished, and only gifs, memes, and emojis could speak. A sanctuary for pure expression, free from the tyranny of hot takes.

Posts became prayers. Replies, relics. Laughs echoed like hymns. The interface, minimal. The communication, primal. Every interaction a throwback to the mythic era when the Elongated bloodline was carved into pyramids with frog chisels and Pepe ink.

Only the worthy could earn the Verified Meme Lizard badge — a sacred sigil bestowed upon the most divine memers, those whose content could shake the blockchain itself. These chosen few? They received NFT airdrops, minted in digital stone, passed down as memetic heirlooms.

The world watched in awe.

The future wasn’t written in text.
It was painted in pixels and spoken in sarcasm.